Emberlee
by Pendryanne
Summary: Viola Emberlee is female tribute of District 6 for the 78th annual hunger games. She knows she will fail, but is determined to return to her family. But there is a boy from district 12, who she is very tempted to die for.
1. The Reaping

"Viola Emberlee!"

My insides turned to snow. My breathing becomes shaky and my lower lip is quivering. Why? How? My name was in a slip of thousands! The chances are more then unlikely! But this is real. It is happening. Right now.

I look to children around me for support, but they just back away silently. I look around helplessly. But everyone just looks at the floor. Thanking the heavens it wasn't them. I look and see snowy white peacekeepers a few feet away from me. They gesture impatiently for me to come to them. My legs felt numb. And I am starting to shake. But I'm in this now. And I'm going to do it properly. I drop my arms to my side, and press them hard against my body, to hold myself together. My legs feel stiff as lead, but I slowly put one in front of the other and move forward. I hold my head high when walking down the aisle, a crowd of people either side of me, staring at me. And a thousand people watching from Panem. I must be calm. The peacekeepers are on either side of me, making sure I don't run. I abandoned that option. I had a feeling I'd get shot on the spot. And if not, a thousand people would see me pathetically attempt to escape.

The peacekeepers hoist me onto the stage. Well _throw_ me onto the stage seems more accurate. I stumble and then straighten immediately, praying no one noticed. I turn and face the crowd. I don't make eye contact with any of the many eyes staring at me. I just fix a point near the hills beyond the rows of houses. I exit the horrific reality for a second. But Dena Royla brings me back.

"Splendid!" She squeaks. I look at her. I don't give her any horrid look. I just stare at her. Her eye shadow is a few inches thick and covers the top half of her face, her eyelashes have been sliced off accept for 3 long golden lashes that curl upwards. Her hair is black. And curves in a huge quiff. My staring is making her self-conscious, because she breaks away from my gaze, looking slightly worried and starts fiddling with the wisps of hair escaping from her quiffs.

"Lovely. Now any volunteers?

"ME! ME!" Cassa screams. I blush a deep pink. My 5-year-old sister breaks away from the people along the perimeter. And rushes forward. The peacekeepers meet her halfway. And sieve her by the shoulders and drags her back. You can see her struggle is actually affecting them. Her screams and movements, kicks and punches are affecting them. How dare they! How dare they treat my little sister like some aggressive animal!

"DON'T YOU DARE HARM HER!" I bellow. It echo's across the whole of District 6. Everyone is frozen with shock. Even Cassa's struggling has stopped and she stares at me. The whole district is silent. _Great_ I think. _The gamemakers are going to kill me for doing that._ Fern, my other sister bravely steps forward and picks up my sister. She gives me a reassuring nod, but her eyes were filled with tears, I could see from all the way up here. She collects Cassa without noticing the peacekeepers, and disappears into the sea of people round the perimeter. Dena looked slightly annoyed by the interruption, but let it pass.

"Any volunteers?"

All we could hear was the whistle of the wind.

"Right that's sorted!" Dena says, relieved." Now onto the boys!" This might be the one I kill. Odds are he'll be dead during the bloodbath. And I will be alongside him. Dena thrusts her hand in the bowl and fishes for a slip of paper. She has one, and holds it out to the audience. She reads:

"Fabian Wolfe!"

I gulp. The odds stand against me now. Fabian is a very large and aggressive boy, with very sharp black hair. The color to match his eyes. He smirks, and slowly walks up to the stage, with no hesitation like me. We make eye contact when he walks up the small set of stairs. This gaze is filled with curiosity and fear. Dena's voice breaks the tension.

"Lovely! May I present, the 78th annual hunger games tributes of District 6!".

This is how I will be remembered. It is disgusting.

When the anthem ends. We're escorted into different rooms in the justice building. I am once again thrown. I guess they're blaming my sisters defiance on me. I just lie on the floor. And sob for a minute. Then I just lie there in silence and stand up. The peacekeepers would laugh at me if they saw me in this state. But they're probably used to it. Just then my family are bustled in. My sisters make a beeline for me and my arms are already open. They crash into me, and I feel whole. Then my mother comes and joins us. My father is long gone. He died in a train crash. Mother took it well, but screamed at the television when the capitol was only bothered about transport problems. Our family was broken. But after hours of helping mother with her sewing. We created a small business that helped us financially. When the girls go to bed, we just sit silently and sew.

I haven't noticed this room is beautiful. Every furniture piece is covered with red velvet. But that is not on my mind. My sisters are sobbing and my mother is crying. I must say something before its too late.

"Listen. Listen. You need to calm down" their loud sobs turned silent and I spoke again "You will be fine. I promise. I'll try to win for you. And I will win. I've got a trick up my sleeve" These are all lies, but my humoring calms them a bit. I turn to fern. "Fern, try to help mother with the sewing because I won't be here… for a while" I added tactfully. Then I addressed Cassa "I need you to be a big brave girl for me now. Ok?" She nods, but coughs, which turns back into crying. Then I address all of them. "Keep safe. I love you. I love you" I say this even after their gone. I am not expecting any more visitors. But there is one.

It's Mona.

Mona is rather old, and runs the only bookshop in district 6, the only district in all of the districts really. We spend hours in her shop. Chatting, discussing books. I am her only regular customer, and she is my best friend. She even lets me read her classics. Something she's very picky about. I love 'Alice in Wonderland' and 'The secret garden'. I recently read 'Romeo and Juliet" By an author unknown. His name got lost in time. Forgotten forever.

Mona has dark grey hair, the color of sooty smoke. And is not skinny, but she's not fat either. Her long hair is up in a bun and wisps of hair are escaping, making her look beautifully young. I've never seen Mona with her hair down.

She seizes me by the shoulders and speaks urgently and quietly.

"Think. What book did you just read?"

I search my brain.

"Uhhh… Romeo and Juliet" I stutter

"Good. Now-" She reaches in her large fleece, and pulls out a tiny bottle, the size of a dung beetle. It is green tinted, and there is a liquid swishing inside. Barely enough for a mouthful. A cork is in the top. Mona rushes and places it in my hand. Hugs me, and whispers in my ear.

"The death scene of Romeo and Juliet. Remember. Do not let anyone find it, hide the bottle in your mouth." She pulls back and smiles, but I see tears spilling over her grey lashes. I realize I've said nothing.

"Oh Mona" I whisper. I cannot bare to be starved of her love. She is my one true friend. I take hold of her hands and hold them in my own.

She smiles and whispers "Juliet's death". Then peacekeepers barge in and bustle her out.

I stand alone, my hands clasped around the bottle, and exhale.

I've never felt more alone in my life.


	2. The Train

When I approach the train. I turn to face the silent crowed. In the sea of faces, I see Cassa perched on Ferns shoulders. They've noticed me looking at them, and mouth 'I love you' and wave hysterically. Cassa almost falls off because she's leaning so forward, but Fern catches her. I wave back robotically, and break away from their gaze. I climb onto the train and the doors snap shut behind me with a mechanical _CLUNK. _I look out the door window and notice people. There on the right it Sonia, the girl who sits next to me in math class. Over to the left is Joel, who once came to our house to fetch clothing for his mother. So many faces I will forget in a number of weeks.

The train springs forward, and the movement knocks me into the wall. I gaze at District 6. My home for the last 14 years. Will I return? The odds are against it. I close my eyes and sigh. My family is behind my eyes, but their faces are happy. I open my eyes and turn to the compartment, and my mouth drops.

The whole of district 6 costs less than this room. The seats, like the room in the justice building, are covered in leather, but with delicate patterns. The food (Oh the food!) seems to crush the table. Pastries and dough so fine and sweet sprinkled with colors and sparkles. And drinks much cleaner and shinier than Mona's bottle, which is nestled in my pocket, my hand is already reaching for a roll. I sink my teeth into the spongy delight. And savor the bite before stuffing the whole thing in my mouth. I stare at the table. Fabian and Dena are staring at me. Dena's eyes as wide as these fine dinner plates. Fabians eyes are laughing at me. I hate him. So much.

"Well then!" she says finishing off a cream filled roll. "I think I'll fetch your mentors!" She disappears behind one of the doors. And I'm left with Fabian. The silence is petrifying, so I stupidly break it.

"Hello" I blurt out.

He stares at me. Then he looks back at rearranging his tower of sandwiches (Or _lady fingers_ as Dena calls them) on his plate. He doesn't look at me when he mumbles.

"Hi"

I open my mouth to speak, but then I hesitate. What am I suppose to say? I can't say good luck. It's not a silly sporting event. It's a matter of life and death.

"Listen. Just… Don't talk to me" He says. Still not looking at me. My eyes narrow at him and I growl through my teeth.

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to make any friends. I'm not here to socialize, I'm here to _win_" He declares with over confidence. What an egomaniac pig!

I pause, think of a good comeback, and then smile mischievously.

"And I didn't come here to listen to your crap" I see his eyes bulge ". I came here to win as well. And because of your rudeness you pig-headed idiot, I think I may smile when I see your face in the sky."

He turns to face me. His eyes filled with red-hot rage. I don't cower away, I continue grinning, not like me at all.

"Listen you sniveling rat" I only scoff at his insult. But inside I'm petrified. "you-" As if my prayers were answered, Dena trots in and we spring apart. I feel acid on my tongue. And my breathing is quiet, but hysterical. That was not like me at all! I think I've made the biggest mistake of my life. I don't want Fabian as an enemy! He'd never be my ally. He'd skin every tribute alive if it meant getting good sponsors.

Just then too people walk in. I gasp. _These are our mentors?_ No wonders District 6 ever have victors! These people are plain pathetic.

They hobble in. A man and a woman. The women in much better condition than the man. But not by much. Our mentor's skin is sickly green and grips his face bones. You can basically see the skull shape, which is tightly hugged by his skin. His eyes are bloodshot and are full of water. He hasn't been crying. His appearance is revolting. He grins at us, and I almost laugh out loud when he struts over to Fabian and chats to him. And Fabians mask of pure horror. Even Dena is going green at the sight of them.

The girl appearance is slightly better. You can see her eyes are saffron yellow, and her hair is dirty blonde. But she too, is as skinny as a twig. I can count each rib under her T-shirt. But she is not green. She walks over to me, and smiles. Not the male mentors revolting yellow smile. But a kind smile. She is actually quite beautiful. Just _very_ skinny. She gestures for me to go with her. I bite my lip and look at my options. I can either go with this woman or get away from this revolting beast and Fabian. Or I can stay with both of them. Hmm. I leap from the seat and follow her, only stopping to teasingly wave at Fabian. He looks at me with pure hatred. When I'm sure he can't see me. I gulp

We go to an empty compartment, identical to the other one. She sits at one of the chairs. I sit opposite her. She opens her mouth to speak, and I fear her voice will be raw and ragged like our other mentor. But no.

"Hello" She says while smiling. Her voice is so happy and kind I feel like crying. "My name is Blaine. And I'm here to help you in every way I can"

I look around. No one is here but her. I feel I can trust her with my life. I smile back at her, but my lip quivers and tears are running down my cheeks. Her gorgeous yellow eyes are filled with concern. "Oh don't cry my darling" She glides over to me and hugs me. She smells of morphine but I don't care. She hushes me and hands me a napkin to blow my nose. Then she goes back to her seat. Her bony hand slowly reaches for mine, and she clutches it.

"Now. What's your name?"

I swallow the lump in my throat.

"Viola Emberlee"

"What a beautiful name! Do you mind if I cal you Vi? 'Viola' seems a bit of a mouthful"

I nod.

"Good. Now I'm going to tell you everything that will help you when you're in the arena."

I listen, taking in her words. She tells me everything. No wonder she became victor. She knows everything. She tells me how to get people to trust you. How to manipulate them. What to do at the Cornucopia. My top priorities. The careers techniques. Places to sleep. How to end alliances. She tells me everything. And I think I have a chance of winning when I've devoured this information. It's dark when she finishes the lecture. "Did you get all that Vi?" I nod enthusiastically and grin. She smiles back then checks the time. " I better get back to my room. I'll have this attendant" She snaps her fingers and one appears of nowhere it seems. "Show you to your room". The attendant nods. And then I surprise myself when I throw my arms around her. She's very tall. My head just rests on her chest. She stiffens, but then holds me back. " Thank you" I whisper. Then I break apart and see if anyone has seen that. No one but the capital attendant whose eyes are wide and mouth is open. She winks at me then disappears.

I follow the capital attendant through the carriage with Fabian, who is clinking wine glasses with our other mentor and laughing. My nose in the air, I walk past him, but he sticks his leg out into the aisle and trips me up. I fall face first onto the carpet, then I hear deafening laughter around me. I get up and walk past the capital attendant. But pause to get a handful of sharp knives that no one sees. Even he is smiling. My face is hot with rage and my arms are shaking. I run into my room and slam the door. I lean against it and listen. I still hear the muffled laughter, which dies down. Then I crumple on my bead and cry.

Oh I miss home so much. I'm already starting to forget. Who do I sit by in maths? I hate the hunger games. Not as much as I hate the capitol. While we suffer they laugh and drink wine in solid gold goblets. I grab a pen off the bedside table and draw a target on the wall. I really don't give a damn. I grab one of the sharp knives and stand the other side of the room. The targets a good 20ft away. I clutch the knifes handle, and raise it. In the center, I imagine Fabian. Laughing at me. Mocking me. I fling the knife hard. It spins through the air, and the point wedges in Fabians eye.

Bullseye.

I grin, and run over to the wall. The knife is directly over the middle. I clutch the handle and pull. It does not come out easily. I have to use all my strength before it flies out. The hole is 3 inches deep. I grin deeper. These games are now becoming more and more interesting.

For the next few hours, I practice. At first I imagine peoples faces. People who I hate. Fabian again. President snow. My other mentor. Then I practice just hitting the target. I am amazing. My aim is epic. I fix my eyes on a point in the room. Just above the window. And I fling my knife into the wall. It wedges in the point my eyes were fixed on. I look up at it. I'm very tired. I can't be bothered to get that knife well above my head. I simply shrug and climb into my bed. I fling the knives in a random drawer. Hoping no one finds them. And if they do, they'll shut up about it. As soon as my head hits the pillow, I feel I'm lying on a cloud. This silk so soft and blissful. I go to sleep happier than I've been all day. I've made a new friend, and discovered a hidden talent.

Oh these Games are going to be amazing.


	3. The chariot

My body still tingles with pain. I feel like some one has violently scrubbed me with sandpaper. I am in the remake center, waiting for my stylist. It's very obvious how unoriginal me and Fabian will look. Usually District 6 ends up wearing a train engineering uniform. A few years ago, 2 of our tributes actually dressed as trains. They practically got eaten alive when in the arena. They didn't last a minute. I just hope whatever my stylist puts me in, it will have dignity.

I doubt it. This is the Capitol.

For the last 3 hours, my prep team has scrubbed off a layer of my skin. They treated me as if they were skinning a rabbit. No sympathy or concern. They tried to be nice, but they were so irritating. They waxed, and trimmed and styled non-stop. I just hoped their hands would suffer painful cramps.

All of my prep team is completely unique. That's what's good about the capitol. No one ever steals your look. Darla's hair is fluorescent pink, and your eyes are blinded when you stare at it. It spreads around her face, like a lions mane. And the glow with silver. Casmas is a man. I think. I can barely tell. He has a long vine tattoo crawling up around his face. His eyes are green to match. His hair is like curly, green mush. He reminds me of a big lump of moss.

Pearla looks as if she's been washed up from District 4. Her hair is filled with different shades of blue, green, and purple. But the style is sane. It's just in simple curls.

The doors jump open, and my posture straightens. A man appears in a simple blue suit. He looks so plain. I am taken aback. He is very broad and stiff when he walks, and has large features. But seems nice enough. He walks over to me, not smiling, and confident.

I open my mouth to speak, but he holds a finger to his lips and shushes me. He walks around me. I thank he has the decency to let me leave my nightgown on. After he circles me twice he finally speaks.

"Hello. My name is Ramon. And I'm your stylist" He still doesn't smile. "Come with me" I follow obediently. And we are in a room with one mirror spread across one wall. I don't need to spend my lifetime in the capitol to know its one sided. He gestures me to sit on one of the armchairs. I do so, and he sits in the armchair across from me. "What is your name?"

"Viola Emberlee"

"Viola. I have an idea that will make you unforgettable.." He smiles faintly, and his eyes light up with creativity. I sigh. I was going to die anyway, might as well be remembered. I raise my eyebrows up. The movement still burns.

"What is it?" He can sense the excitement and joins in.

"Something amazing, something incredible. Are you photophobic?"

I stare at him, blinking, he's being serious.

"I mean. Do you mind bright lights?"

Oh.

"No, I don't mind."

"Excellent" He says dramatically.

A few hours later, we are waiting patiently in a big hall, awaiting the ceremony. I still know nothing about what I will be doing exactly. Along with the horses and other tributes. I much prefer the company of the horses. We have a few minutes to spare, and while I stroke my horse, I cast glances to other tributes, fusing them into my memory.

District 1, has this huge giant. He's actually the same height as the horses. Goddamn district 1. Even their horses are better then everyone else. Gorgeous Shetland ponies, while we have anorexic donkeys.

The 2 female tributes from District 1 and District 2 are whispering to each other. District 2's covered in freckles, and her eyes are constantly narrowed. District 1 is alluring. Her face looks as smooth as a peach. And her hair is natural silver. I notice the other boys are stealing glances at her. Ugh.

I look around again. The other children look puny and weak like me. I spotted a smiley ginger girl and a brunette with the longest hair I've ever seen (She could probably sit on it.) I was almost tempted to say hello. But I resisted.

Then I suddenly realized. I'm the youngest one here.

Well not the youngest. There is a boy my age by the district 12 chariots. Everyone is looking at him. Well not at him, but at his mentors.

Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark.

I am terrified of Katniss. She was brave enough to stand up to the capitol. I don't admire her for it. Just the opposite.

I can't help staring at the District 12 boy. I remember his name from the recap of the reapings. Rory Williams. For a few minutes I stare at him. He seems so… similar to me. He has approached the Hunger Games like I have.

Whilst Katniss and Peeta are talking, his head scans the hall, then his eyes lock on mine. I inhale a sharp breath, and am ready to spin around. But I can't. His gaze is not confident, not cruel, not overpowering.

But kind.

I see he is in coal miner clothes. He really couldn't steal the fire look. It was Katniss' thing. He still stares at me, and I smile at him.

He like me has been through hell. He has family and friends he wants to go home to, like me. I know how he feels. He must hate the hunger games, and the tributes.

And then he smiles back at me.

My mouth opens slightly in shock, but when the anthem sounds, I simply nod to him. And climb upon my chariot. And Ramon and Pearla appear to add last minute touches. Pearla attaches small microchips around Fabian and me. Then Ramon holds a black case and inside is 4 dents.

Ramon says their called contact lenses. I still have no idea what he's doing, but I go along with it. He slips the watery dome into my eyes, then Fabians. I blink away the water in my eyes, praying it doesn't ruin my make up. Fabians face shows he's not happy about this either. He looks at me and I just shrug.

My hair had been transformed. We wear nothing that originates us from district 6, I simply wear a lilac dress, that matches the streaks in my hair. Fabian just wears trousers, t-shirt, and jacket.

The anthem sounds and the Chariots enter the square 1 by one. 2…3…4…5. Oh no us now. I gulp. And our chariot jerks forward. I look back at Ramon whose grin covers half his face.

The roaring crowed deafens my ears. I don't wave, though Fabian is waving and flirting with the crowd. I snort, and the crowd's cheers drown it out. I suddenly feel tiny vibrations across my body; Fabian has felt them too and is trying to fiddle with them. But I hold his arm down and shake my head. He frowns, but obeys. Then I can feel light explode behind me. I hear the crowd gasp, and I'm dying to see what it is. Then my eyes begin to glow, brighter and brighter. But before they do, I look into the giant screen. And understand.

Behind Fabian and me is a ghost of a train. The headlights, I now know, are our eyes. The train ripples with light, as if it's really moving. Ramon knew what he was doing; I should never have underestimated him. I thought, as long as I lived, no one could out do Cinna. I was wrong. As we come to the square and stop. The train whistles once, and then disappears. I try to hide my shock, and do it unsuccessfully.

After Snows speech, we enter the hall under the training center. Ramon is waiting, with Blaine and my stylists. They all seize me by the shoulders and praise Fabian and me. Then we walk to a glass lift and I try to ignore the many pair of eyes I could feel following me.


	4. Training

The next morning, all of us eat silently in our compartments dining room. Our larger mentor and Fabian fill the awkward silence by gorging the breakfast loudly. Me, Dena and Blaine are correctly using a knife and fork (Blaine has hers in the opposite hands because she's left-handed) The boys just threw their cutlery aside and dove in headfirst. When Fabian emerges from his now spotless plate, most of breakfast is covered around his mouth. Our mentor looks like he's wearing a mask of wet meat, he grins, but chunks of brown slop cover his yellow teeth.

I hear Dena retch silently and painfully, and drop her cutlery on the table. She cringes as she trots around our male mentor, then stands in front of Fabian and me confidently. Fabians mouth is open, like a fish. I smirk at how stupid he looks.

"Right I'm taking you down to training now. Chop chop." She claps her hands, then turns towards Fabian "Dear you have a little something round your mouth" I snort loudly and cover my mouth with my hand. My eyes are surprised and laughing. Fabian looks humiliated and his face is turning slightly pink. He messily wipes his face with his bare hand, and then wipes the mess on his hand on his training uniform, constantly grimacing.

Our training uniforms are the same as all the tributes. Accept the stitched number 6 on my arm. They're a simple black t-shirt and leggings, with a red stripe running down the sides of my body. They're very stretchy; it feels like I'm wearing rubber. We ride silently in the lift, Dena between us. She bugs us about how to make a good first impression on the game makers. Blah blah blah. Then the lift snaps open that sends a jolt through my body.

It is a large hall filled with different stations, almost all of them with gleaming weapons. The game makers are in a small podium, not really listening to us, or noticing our arrival. Which is odd because we are late. We slip into the crowd of tributes, and the women rattles off the rules. When she is done everyone fills the spaces of the hall. I'm still standing in the middle. The careers practically ran to the spear section, and are now admiring different blades. I would adore using one, but I feel I need to keep this secret to myself. Secure under my belt. I scurry off to the one station empty. I don't really need to know about game and plants. I actually know a bit about it. Some of Mona's books (I wince at the name) contained plant names and uses. And I buried the information in my head, in case I ever needed it.

And I needed it now.

After about 1 hour, I know at least 50 ways to use a blunt stone or a knife. My hands aren't suffering that bad, so I go over to the knot tying stations and am weaving small baskets before I know it. I use lots of material, Bamboo, twigs, and vines. I am struggling to create a seaweed basket, when I see feet crunching the fake foliage.

I gasp and my head snaps up. It's not a career, thank god. But it is a tribute. By the number on her arm, she's from district 7. She has very long straight hair, up to her waist. The ends up to the half point of her hair are black. I guess by the capitol. Her face is in a heart shape, and she has a faint sprinkle of freckles on her cheekbones. She doesn't smile. She just sits next to me, cross-legged, grabs some bamboo and tries to copy my technique. I smile and continue what I'm doing, pretending I don't notice her.

I look at her work after a few minutes. Her brow is furrowed in concentration and her basket is a mess. I gingerly tap her on the arm, and she jerks her head up if she just heard a gun shot. I hesitantly hold out my hand, wondering if she understands my gesture. She looks at my hand, then at her basket. The realization hits her like a brick, and she casually hands it to me while smiling.

"Thanks" She sighs and stretches out her legs and sits more comfortably. This evaporates all the tension. And I decide I like her. A bit.

"No problem." In my head I'm listing all the possibilities of an alliance. It won't happen, but my hopes are already up.

"Have the careers given you any trouble yet?" She asks.

"Nope. Why, have they given you any"?

"Sadly." She points to the tall boy from district 1, who just threw a spear through the heart of one of the dummies. "He called me a woodchuck, and kicked me in the leg when the game makers weren't looking" She said it so casually, I would have been furious if it was me.

"Your in District 7. Right? Snag an axe from the cornucopia and beat them till they bleed." I pause. Then shudder. The hunger games are really turning me into a sick killer by the minute.

She laughs. "If only it were that simple." She says dramatically. I know what she means; I just spoke about the cornucopia like it was a skip in the park. It's a bloodbath

"How's the boy from your district?"

"Nice enough. Bit quiet though. He hasn't said nothing ever since he got reaped" She nodded at the pale, lanky boy with a dirty blonde bowel haircut. "What's yours like?"

"A pig. A rat. I hate him. So much, and he hates me"

"Whoa! Someone's a bit feisty!" I laugh and hand her back her basket, mended completely. She takes it and throws it into the fake forest behind us. I just laugh and roll my eyes.

Later, I am standing in the middle of the hall with my tray. I wish I could get to sit with the district 7 girls. I just wish I knew her name. But she's attempting to talk with her tribute boy who won't listen to her. I really don't want to linger, so I scan the tables, most of them bare with one tribute eating on their own. Some are crying into their tray. One boy is leaning back in his chair, playing with a fake leaf from the forest.

Rory Hawthorn.

I stroll over and drop my tray down opposite him. He says nothing just raises his eyebrows. I smile kindly, but he doesn't react. I am suddenly starting to regret sitting here.

"Hello Rory" I say if we've known each other for years

He smiles. "Hello Viola".

He smiled. Good.

He stares at me while I eat my mashed potato, then snaps into a normal position again.

He looked exactly like his brother. Gale Hawthorn. Katniss' cousin. I almost asked him why Gale did not volunteer for him in the reaping. But then I figured Gale is about 20 now. Over 18.

I don't want to ask him about Katniss and Peeta. I want him to feel that I'm only here to talk to him. Which I am.  
"Have you been in your districts mines yet?" I blurt out.

He looks at me. And I have a fear that he's ignoring me.

"I went down once on a school trip once, I'm not old enough to work there yet. It was weird. it smelled funny as well " He wrinkled his nose. I smiled. I was determined to keep the conversation going. "Do you know how the trains work, because you're from District 6?"

"Of course I do"

He leans forward, and says quietly "Then can you get us out of here?"

I sigh, " I feel the same way too. I want to go home". I will not cry here. I will not.

Tributes are now finishing their meals and heading back to the stations. I get up and turn my back on Rory. Without looking at him, I say "Rory can you do me a favor?"

"Urm…Yeah?"

"When I die… try to win please"

Then I walk away from him before he can say anything else.

I see the district 7 boy waddle off to one of the stations. I catch up with him.

"Excuse me. What's your district partners name?"

He looks surprised. I think because I'm the only tribute from another district that has spoke to him. His eyes are a very light grey. Like light smoke. He looks at the ground.

"Tanneth"

"And what is your name?" It feels rude to leave him out.

"Al"

I nod and walk off. I need to stop leaving like that, but I can't help it.

Tanneth. Al. Rory.

Allies?


	5. The score

I sit on a bench outside of the training center. The game makers are waiting in their little podium. So loud I can hear their muffled voices. The situation seems so dramatic. What will my score possibly be? I've been dying to throw proper knives. Not silver kitchen knives. But I don't think I'm that good.

I wonder what Fabian would get. He sits next to me, not showing the slightest look of fear. His posture is lazy and he leans back in his chair. How can he be so calm? He must know what he's doing.

I haven't seen him much of him at the training. I've been to busy noting everything important when in the arena. I know he went to the spear station. But my back was turned on him; I was in the camouflage station. Making a bright red rucksack muddy enough look like a dirty rock, successfully.

As male tribute he goes 1st. The voice calls out his name. The voice of doom. His head jerks and he rises. He doesn't look at me, but I watch him go. I almost say good luck but swallow. Our relationship is complicated enough. The door shuts with a mechanical clank. The silence is terrifying. My legs rub against the fabric for a comfortable sound. I begin muttering under my breath. Miming throwing a knife, practicing my stance. When a thought struck me. What if the majority of tributes had more than one thing to show? What if I just throw knives, but there are with tributes with ten more impressive abilities? I start pondering on whether or not to do more. No, I should only show my strongest skill. When my name is called, I gasp and swallow. My stomach is churning violently and my legs feel numb. But somehow I rise and walk through the doors. Leaving all my doubt behind.

I enter the huge hall. It seems so peaceful now that there are no tributes practicing tactics to savagely kill each other. The Gamemakers aren't noticing me. They're chatting excitedly. I swallow. Maybe Fabian has got them chatting. Maybe Fabians skill was unforgettable.

I shake my head. No more Fabian. It's just me, and the knives.

I walk up to the wall decorated with weapons. I collect a handful of knives and savor how more comfortable they are then butter knives. I face the dummy in the center, a few more spaced out around it, filling out half of the hall. The first dummy is only a few feet away, I could strike it with my knives closed, but they space out and get further and further away. If I want to impress, I need to strike the one at the end, at least 50 feet away from me, directly over the heart.

I look up and still clutch my 5 knives in one hand. The gamemakers are still chatting. I cough but they take no notice. I get frustrated and clutch my knives for confidence "AHEM" I say loudly, surprising them. They look at me with raised eyebrows and wide eyes. As if I just transformed into a mutt.

"Viola Emberlee. District 6" My voice wobbles, but they must be used to it, because they intend to hurry me up.

"Yes, yes. Go on" The man at the front urges. He must be the head gamemaker. He gestures for me to do whatever I have to do. I relax my posture and keep my feet apart. My first knife in my throwing hand, my others in my left. I close my eyes and exhale and imagine all the fear, all the nausea escaping with that breath. My eyes snap open, and with a swift flick of my wrist, I fling the knife. I can hear it slicing the air until it buries itself in the dummy's chest.

Not the heart. But pretty darn close.

I don't stop there. I fling my next knife a second later, and with lightning speed, it lodges in the second dummies neck. To the gamemakers, the knives and me must seem like a blur. I lodge each knife in every dummy, not missing any beats, not missing any dummies. All strike means death. Neck and heart. I hear the lady gamemakers gasps and squeals as the knives lodge in the dummies. As if they can empathies the dummies imaginary pain. When I come to my last dummy, the one at the end. I hesitate slightly; it's a very far distant. If I miss this, it will ruin everything. But my confidence overwhelmed me and the knife whizzes through the air. And the dummy is pinned to the back of the wall by the knife, which is puncturing the dummy's heart.

Bullseye.

I look at the gamemakers. Sure enough, their faces are masks of either horror or excitement. Or both. Most of the men are grinning. "You may leave now, Viola" His voice is strained. He cringes away from me slightly. As if I will throw one of my knives at him. Even though the force field is impenetrable.

I nod politely and skip out the room. Literally. I feel on top of the world. My legs no longer felt weak and numb. But strong and powerful. I punched the air with my fists, silently screaming with joy. Then pause to see if anyone is around. Thank god no one was here to see my mini dance of triumph. I try to keep an emotionless face when I'm in the lift. But I can't compose my grin. I think that little performance got me at least an 8. Maybe a 9. When the lift door opens. My face turns to stone.

Everyone watches me come in. Our Male mentor. Blaine. Dena. Even the capitol attendants. They're obviously waiting for me to say something. They're all sitting on the colorful couches. Waiting for the screen to switch on and reveal their scores. I keep them all in suspense, for my own enjoyment.

"Hi" I say casually. I sit down on the seat next to Dena. Her honey perfume poisoning my nostrils. But I keep my face calm. They all still stare at me. "What?" I say.

"You know what!" Exclaims Blaine. She rushes over and clutches my arm lightly. "What happened? How did you do?"

It was entertaining to see them all press for information desperately. Though I felt slightly bad for Blaine. I'd tell her later. I shrugged again.

"Ok" I say. Fabian is looking at me intensely. All these eyes are making me uncomfortable. I shift in my seat.

"Well what did you do.?" Blaine urges.

"I-" But then I pause and look at Fabian. If I tell him I did knife throwing. He'd know my strength. And use it against me. An advantage for him. Which was just not fair. I shrugged again. The gesture slightly annoying now. "-did some stuff" I don't say any further. Fabian realizes what game I'm playing and narrows his eyes and turns his back on me. I resist a smile. One point to Viola.

Half an hour later. I am munching on a large slice of cake, bought up just for me, from the capitol attendant. I happily share some with Blaine, and even Dena. But Fabian and our male mentor look very annoyed when I don't offer them some. I don't care. The scores will be revealed soon.

The anthem plays and the television comes to life. I knock the cake on the floor and rush to sit by Fabian. He doesn't care I came to sit by him; he too is leaning forward and intently watching the screen. Here comes the scores. I hold my breath as Ceaser Flickerman starts:

I start to learn all the tributes names. And I commit their names and appearances to memory. Kale is the tall boy from district 1. He scored a 10 (no surprise there. Careers usually get a 10). The alluring and sly district 2 girl achieved an 8. The freckled short girl from 2 got a 9. He partner achieved a 9 also. The tanned boy with golden hair from district 4 gets a 9. The rest of the tributes score points not near as good enough as the careers. Until us. Fabian pulls up a 7. Which sends our team applauding and congratulating him. But I almost fell of the chair when the number 10 flashes on the screen for me.

10. Career standard. Better then some of the careers actually.

I get hugged and praised so much I can barely breathe. Dena looks so proud and I swear Blaine's eyes look slightly wet. But I turn my attention back to the screen. Were not done yet. I almost cry when Al receives a 3. Both Fabian and My male mentor laugh. Tanneth gets a 7. I know those are her axe skills. Then Rory Hawthorn gets a 7. I smile at his picture, and then Dena turns the television off.

"Well that was exciting! Come on now! Chop chop. Up to bed! We'll each be coaching your interviews tomorrow."

Fabian groans and I wince. That will be painful. Fabian and I slope off to our rooms. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.


End file.
